


A Resolute Little Bird

by OperaPhantom



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, BAMF Sansa Stark, Creepy Petyr Baelish, F/M, Fluff, Good gregor clegane, Harassment, Implied/Referenced Sexual Harassment, Mild Language, Petyr Baelish is His Own Warning, Sansa Stark-centric, Self-Defense, Sexual Harassment, Wulf Pack 1/21, Wulf Pack 11/20, sansan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-13 17:27:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29282214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OperaPhantom/pseuds/OperaPhantom
Summary: Fed up with all the horrible men she seems to attract, Sansa makes two resolutions: no more creeps, and take some self-defense classes. Despite having a class with Professor Baelish, the first goes pretty well. The second, well, she's not sure if she'll make it. That is, until her friends recommend a new gym run by the Clegane brothers.
Relationships: Sandor Clegane/Sansa Stark
Comments: 20
Kudos: 106
Collections: Pack Member Stories





	A Resolute Little Bird

The fireworks outside looked amazing from her balcony. The bursts of color looked far more cheerful than Sansa felt. Instead of having fun at Margaery’s New Year’s party, she was curled up on her outdoor sofa with her dogs Lady and Dove, a bottle of champagne, and a pint of ice cream. Instead of enjoying a glamorous evening, she was sitting here furious with guys who wouldn’t take no for an answer.

She had been at Margaery’s, dressed up like an old movie star and spending time with her friends. Until that Harry Hardyng showed up and decided Sansa was the lucky girl for ringing in the New Year. Nevermind that she told him flat out she wasn’t interested. He wanted her, and that was all that mattered. After enduring his annoying attempts to get her to sleep with him, she’d taken the chance to leave early with Loras, Margie’s brother, and his boyfriend Renly. They’d dropped her off at her apartment, letting her vent.

So now she was sitting here in an oversized sweater and fleece leggings, watching the fireworks with only her pets for company. All because some jerk wouldn’t take no for an answer and kept bugging her. She sighed. First Joffrey, then Ramsay, and now this guy. Was she a magnet for them? She looked down at her dogs, the grey and white dappled greyhounds snug in the latest sweaters her mom had knit for her beloved “grand-puppies”. They stared back at her with wagging tails and eyes full of love, but offered no answers.

As the clocks around the city chimed in the New Year, Sansa gave them each a kiss on top of their heads.  
“New Year’s is a time for resolutions, right?” she asked them. “Well, my resolution is no more creeps… and maybe some martial arts lessons in case Ramsay comes back around.”  
They snuggled into her arms, licking her cheeks and giving her a smile to start the New Year with.

* * *

Sansa shook the snow off of her coat and plopped into the chair with a furious huff. Her friends looked at her, concerned.  
“What’s wrong, main babe?” Margaery asked. After a moment, she slid her untouched glass of Arbor Gold over to her friend. Margie had an uncanny ability to know exactly what people needed.  
Sansa took a swig, needing the alcohol more than the taste right now. “What’s wrong? What’s wrong? I’ll tell you what’s wrong. It’s Professor Petyr “Damn him to the Seven Hells” Baelish! He tried to corner me again! Said some bs about how my work was good, but he knew I could do better and would I accompany him to his office so we could discuss it? The whole time he had that smarmy look on his face, and he kept staring at my chest and was just… just… Ugh!” She shuddered as she took another large gulp of the wine.

Cella and Ros shook their heads, Dany and Margie hummed in sympathy, and Cersei clucked her tongue.  
“What is it with you and creeps? First my _darling_ little sunshine of a shitshow son, then that Bolton bastard, then that Hardyng dick, and now this money-grubbing jerkwad. You need a taser, little dove.”  
Sansa opened up her purse, glad they were in Margie’s flat and not a public restaurant. She pulled out her pepper spray and her stun gun, along with her self-defense keychain, whistle, and the alarm with a strobe light.  
All the eyebrows around the table went up, except for Sansa’s.  
“Already got it. What I need is a bitch aura. Either that, or I need to actually complete my New Year’s resolution and get some self defense lessons.”

Dany sighed. “If our gym wasn’t packed with the new fighters, I’d bring you to train with Drogo and I,” she said.  
Sansa smiled at her. “I know you would.” She cupped her chin in her hands. “I just wish there was something I could do so they wouldn’t think of me as some kind of prey to begin with.”  
Cersei, who’d been looking pensive, dug through her purse. “I don’t know if they can do that, but when Tommen was being bullied so badly we took him to the Cleganes.”  
Dany perked up. “Sandor and Gregor? They teach?” she asked, her brow furrowing in confusion.  
Cersei shrugged elegantly. “They didn’t back then, they only did it as a favor. But they’ve been finding retirement boring, so they’re starting up a gym of their own. It opens tomorrow, actually.” She pulled out a sleek black business card, passing it to Sansa.  
“Who are they?” Sansa asked, interested but also confused.

“They were UFC fighters, big-time," Dany explained. "Huge guys. Gregor’s close to eight feet tall, and Sandor’s the shorter one at seven feet. Drogo respected them, still does. Gregor was a bit crazy in the ring when he first started, but he's grown a lot since then. There was a scandal a few years back when someone got the jump on Sandor after a fight and scarred his face."  
“So what did they do for Tommen?”  
“They taught him some basic self defense moves,” Cella said, ever protective of her little brother, “but mostly they helped him with his confidence. You know how Joff and his cronies teased him about his weight and the fact he liked animals and cooking more than sports. Gregor and Sandor are huge guys, as stereotypically masculine as they come, but they taught him that being chubby and soft didn’t make him less.”  
Cersei nodded. “They did wonders for him. They even took him to school a couple times when those Stevenson kids kept pestering him. My father’s helped them out over the years. Their father saved his life, and a Lannister always pays their debts. Give them a call,” she told Sansa.

The rest of the luncheon passed quickly in a daze of good food, good company, and good wine. Sansa drank too much Arbor Gold, but after the first glass she decided she’d earned it. Besides, Cella rarely drank and promised her a lift home, so Sansa was off the hook for transportation.

She carefully made her way up the stairs to her apartment. Once inside, she immediately changed into a comfortably oversized sweater and a pair of leggings. She pulled the business card out of her purse, staring at it.

Her New Year’s resolution of lessons had gone unfulfilled so far, though not for lack of trying. She’d tried out a lot of gyms and classes. None of them were a good fit. A few of them even acted like she shouldn’t be there, like they didn’t think she was serious. Sure she wasn’t muscular like Brienne Tarth, but that didn’t mean she was some soft marshmallow either. Her looks shouldn’t matter.

Of course, there’d also been the teachers who acted like she needed to get ripped. Sansa wasn’t afraid of being strong and having muscle, but getting ripped wasn’t her goal. Being able to escape a bad situation was.

She gave in to her urge to Google the Cleganes, causing her mouth to drop. These guys were muscular even for UFC fighters. Like Dany said, there was a lot of coverage on Sandor’s attack. Apparently no one knew who did it even after five years, although speculation ranged from a disgruntled opponent to a gangster gone broke from a bad bet. As she went through picture after picture, she thought his scars weren’t as bad as the media made them out to be. Reconstructive surgery had helped him, although the skin was still too shiny and smooth to look completely natural. He was really an attractive guy, what with his roughly chiseled features, intense eyes, dark hair, neat beard, and arms that looked made for hugs.

She shook herself. His being attractive wasn’t the point. What mattered was how they would teach her. Throwing caution to the winds, she dialed the number. After a few rings, the phone was answered.  
“Clegane Gym, Lydia speaking. How can I help you?”  
Slightly surprised by the soft feminine voice, Sansa felt it boded well for her. If the Cleganes hired a woman, it probably wasn’t just because they wanted a hottie around the gym. After all, both Dany and Drogo respected them, and neither of her friends tolerated sexist jerks. “Hi, I was recommended to you by Cersei Lannister and Dany Targaryen. I’m looking for self-defence or martial arts classes.”  
“Right now we have a self-defense classes. Are you looking for a beginner’s class, an intermediate one, or just regular practice to stay sharp? Or you can schedule an assessment session so we can see where you’re at and find the best place for you.”  
“A beginner’s class. I don’t really know much.”

Lydia listed off the days and times of their classes. It was pricey, but Sansa knew it would be worth it. Dany, Drogo, Cersei, and Myrcella all spoke well of them, and speaking with Lydia gave her a good feeling.  
“Okay, so we’ll mark you down for the 5:30 class on Wednesday,” Lydia said with a smile in her voice. Her tone became more serious. “I have one last question for you. Just for the record, are you wanting these lessons to be on the safe side, or because you’re in danger from someone?”  
That was a question Sansa hadn’t been expecting, but it made her like the gym even more. “No danger that I know of, although there is a creepy guy at my university. He’s the latest in a string of creeps, which is why I want the classes.”  
“Oh, I understand. Even with my brothers, people still bother me,” Lydia said with a wry laugh. “Anyway, we’ll see you on Wednesday! And since it’s the first session, come by about twenty minutes early so we can get all the paperwork sorted.”

* * *

The week flew by, and Wednesday arrived sooner than Sansa felt it should. She’d grabbed an old duffle bag for her gym clothes, so all she had to do was get through her classes. Luckily for her, Professor Baelish was out sick. For once, she was able to focus on the material and not on making sure she had witnesses if he harassed her.

Clegane Gym was in a small, two-story building on the edge of downtown. There wasn’t a large sign denoting the building, just a painted script in the window. Inside, there was a front room with some chairs and magazines. There were already a few women milling around and chatting; Sansa recognized Shireen Baratheon, as well as the rude TA from Sansa’s economics class. A young woman with dark brown hair sat at the desk, checking everyone in. She looked up at Sansa, revealing her name tag with “Lydia” written on it. So this was the woman from the phone.  
“Hello!” Lydia said with a smile. “May I have your name, please?”  
“Sansa Stark. I’m here for the beginner’s class at 5:30.”  
“All right, Sansa…” Lydia bent down, shuffling through the file cabinet on her left. “Here it is!” She pulled out a small stack of papers, handing them over along with a pen. “I just need your signature in the places marked by a purple X. If you enjoy the class and want to continue, you can meet with me afterwards to talk about our payment options.”

Sansa checked over the paperwork, signing when she was satisfied. The others had already shuffled to either the main part of the gym or the changing rooms. She turned back to Lydia, handing her back the paperwork and pen.  
Lydia quickly scanned through it. “Excellent, it’s all in order! Just head back to the changing rooms, and we’ll be on the floor about five minutes before the class starts.”  
Sansa nodded and shifted her duffle bag back onto her shoulder.

“Hey Lydia, have you seen-”

Just as Sansa walked through the door to the rest of the gym, she slammed into a warm and solid mass. Stumbling over her fallen duffle bag as she shifted backwards, she felt an iron grip on her arms as someone steadied her.  
“You okay there?” a voice rasped.  
“Yes! Oh gods, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to run into you,” she babbled as she hurried to pick up her bag. As a large hand helped her up, a warm chuckle surrounded her.  
“No worries. If I could be hurt by a little bird like you flying into me, I wouldn’t have lasted long in the ring.”

She looked up for the source of the voice. Up, and up, and up, until she reached the face of Sandor Clegane. A small smirk twisted his lips as he kept his grip on her upper arms. Seeing his pictures had not prepared her for the overwhelming physicality of him, nor for the tap dancing her lady parts did when she met his dark eyes. He peered at her, his brow furrowing in concentration.  
“You Sansa Stark?” he asked.  
How did he know who she was? She nodded, still a little overwhelmed by him and trying desperately to stop the runaway train of her naughty thoughts.  
He released her left arm, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry, that came out creepier than I intended,” he grumbled. “Dany and Drogo said you were looking into classes, said something about a lot of assholes harassing you.”  
Sansa nodded, a faint blush staining her cheeks. “Um, yeah. I don’t know why, but I attract a lot of creeps. You know, the kind of guys who think “no” means “yes”, and that “get the seven hells away from me” means “oh take me, I’m yours”,” she said, overacting the fainting maiden.  
He grunted. “Yeah, met a few of those guys in the ring. My brother and I never could stand ‘em.” He grinned wolfishly. “Always made beating them that much more enjoyable.”  
“I bet it did,” she giggled, “not that I’m here to beat anyone up. I just want to be prepared in case someone goes too far.”  
He nodded at her. “Good-”

A roar interrupted them. “Oy, little brother! If you’re done flirting, we’ve got a class to teach!” Gregor Clegane stood in the center of the gym, head and shoulders above everyone else. He grinned at the pair of them, before turning to shout at Lydia to get over and help him with the class.  
Sandor sighed, rubbing the back of his neck again. “Sorry about him, older brothers and their teasing” he explained.  
Sansa laughed, waving his apology away. “Don’t worry, I have four siblings. Including a sister who used to hate anything and anyone “girly”, which describes me in a nutshell. I know how it goes.”  
“Seven hells, it’s bad enough with two. Can’t imagine having four,” he said, shaking his head slowly. “Anyway, you’d best get changed while I see what my brother wants. Hope you enjoy the class,” he said as they shook hands.  
Sansa headed off to the changing rooms, recalling the warmth of his hand in hers throughout the entire class.

* * *

Sansa drank deeply from her bottle, using her towel to wipe the sweat from her forehead. Quickly, she got changed so she could grab some food. The class had blown away all her expectations. Lydia, who turned out to be Gregor and Sandor’s younger sister, gave the class useful tips on how to improve their strength and speed as well as the self-defense moves. The brothers themselves followed her lead, acting as demonstrations, practice partners, and secondary instructors. The other women in the class were so much fun, except for Claire Stevenson, Sansa’s economics TA and the older sister of Tommen’s tormentors. But Sansa could ignore her and her malicious personality. Immediately after the first session, she’d signed up for the next month of classes, and even a membership so she could work out whenever they were open.

Much to her delight, Sandor was often there when she came. He always made time to help her if she needed a spotter or if she had questions. While he was gruff, he never once made her feel foolish. Instead he listened intently with his serious grey eyes trained on her like she was the only other person in the world. Despite his gruff nature, he was kind and never acted like she was a bother, despite what Claire Stevenson always said about Sansa hogging him. When a discussion about good strength building exercises went into his lunch break, he suggested they go to the diner down the block and finish there. It turned into weekly lunches, ones she greatly looked forward to.

It was during those lunches that Sansa got to know him better. He told her how he and Gregor had first started out, about his childhood, his goals. He showed her pictures of his dog Stranger, a pitbull he’d rescued. She in turn told him about growing up wanting to be a princess or a perfect lady with four rough and tumble siblings, and how she was majoring in fashion because she wanted to make an inclusive brand. She showed him pictures of Lady and Dove, and told him how long it had taken her mother to warm up to them, but how she now called them her “grand-puppies”. He told her about going to anger management therapy because of the attack, and vented about how he was still angry no one knew who did it. Sansa, in turn, told him about how painfully young she’d been the first time a man hit on her, and vented about Professor Baelish. Sansa knew he was looking out for her because of what Dany and Drogo told him, but she slowly found herself falling for him.

The moment she realized just how much she’d fallen for him, she choked on her lemonade.  
Sandor looked at her, concern filling those lovely grey eyes. “All right there, little bird?” he asked.  
She nodded, clearing her windpipe. “I just remembered I have Baelish this afternoon,” she fibbed.  
“That shitstain still giving you trouble?” he growled, the fries in his fingers squished beyond recognition.  
She shrugged. “This is my last semester with him, and it’s almost over. He’s careful no one else sees him. Besides, who’s going to believe that he’s harassing me because he’s obsessed with my mom turning him down over twenty years ago? It sounds like some soap opera,” she sighed wearily.  
He hunched down in his seat. “I believe you,” he grumbled.  
She smiled at him as she used a napkin to wipe the fry remains from his hand. “I know you do. And it helps a lot. More than you know,” she told him sincerely. She didn’t want to think what her life would be like without Sandor around. That was why she couldn’t act on her feelings; what if he didn’t feel the same? There was too much risk.

“Well, you ever want me to escort you to and from class, you let me know. I don’t mind being scary for you, little bird.” Sandor gave her a lopsided grin.  
She knew he hated being seen that way, like he was some brute, but she appreciated the offer. He had to know she didn’t care about that, right? “I may take you up on that. If you don’t mind,” she quickly added.  
“Not if it’s for you,” he said, smiling as he leaned over and tucked an errant hair behind her ear.

She blushed and looked down, focused on her food. The rest of the meal passed too quickly for Sansa’s liking, and she arrived at her economics class sooner than she wanted. As she walked into the lecture hall, she froze. Her seat, the one she’d sat in all semester because it was the furthest from Baelish and gave her plenty of time to leave before he reached her, was taken. Sitting there in Sansa’s spot, with a smug smirk on her face, was none other than Claire Stevenson. The only spot left was Claire’s usual spot. And it was right next to Baelish’s podium.

The oily voice of her professor wafted over her shoulder like a bad smell. “Miss Stark, you’re unusually late. Please take a seat so we may begin.”  
She turned and saw Professor Baelish behind her, his shark smile unpleasant as he reached forward to touch her. She jerked away, a brittle smile gracing her own face before dropping away as she turned back.

Sansa mechanically walked forward, eyes darting between her seat and Claire’s. The TA sent a saccharine smile at Sansa before turning back to her work. Sansa could feel the uncomfortably close body heat of Professor Baelish following her. She pulled her phone from her bag, typing as quickly as she could.  
_Need favor. Class end 5, BS109. Plz b here._

Professor Baelish leaned forward over his laptop, one eyebrow raised as he leered at her. “Miss Stark, this is not the first class of the semester; you should know to put your phone away,” he said softly. She mumbled an apology, something about her mother asking about a family dinner, and sent the text. As class went on, her stomach sank lower and lower when she felt no buzz in reply. Of course she wouldn’t get a response; she didn’t know his schedule. Maybe he had something planned, like a date she thought miserably. She couldn’t, shouldn’t, expect him to drop everything just because she asked him to. Her mind raced, trying to figure out how to escape Baelish when class finished.

A buzz halfway through class made her heart leap. Professor Baelish stood in front of the smartboard with his back to the class. She kept her eyes on her notes as she unlocked her phone with her free hand. Making sure Baelish and Claire Stevenson weren’t looking, she peeked at her phone.  
_Anything for you, little bird._

Her heart soared, relief and hope filling her in equal measures. The rest of class she focused on her notes and learning. Ever since she’d realized what Professor Baelish wanted, she’d doubled-down on her studies. She refused to give him the opportunity of poor grades to extort her. It would be one less way he could wriggle out if she needed to report him.

Much to Sansa’s dismay, Professor Baelish ended class ten minutes early. She hurried to stuff everything into her bag in time to leave. She could wait in the atrium; there were always students hanging out there, so she wouldn’t be on her own.  
“Miss Stark, a moment of your time.” Baelish blocked the end of the row. With his podium on her left, the wall at her back, and the rising desks stair-stepping up to the doors on her right, she was boxed in. She took a deep breath to steady her nerves.  
“Is something wrong, Professor?”  
He shrugged. “Not entirely. I simply wish to know if you’re doing well.”  
Where was he going with this? “I’m fine,” she replied, eyeing him warily.  
“Are you sure? It’s only that Miss Stevenson mentioned you were in a self-defense class. If anyone is bothering you, if you’re in any danger, you can always come to me,” he said, reaching out to stroke her hand, his eyes glinting with a strange light.  
Her hair stood on end, and not the way it did when Sandor touched her. “Professor Baelish, let go of my hand,” she said firmly.  
His grip shifted to her wrist. “My dear, whatever is the matter?” he asked mildly, as if he hadn’t ignored her.

Sansa saw red. She reacted. The wrist grip escape was one the class had practiced for since the first session. Her muscles knew what to do before Baelish could blink. She straightened her hand, twisting it over his arm and breaking his hold. Once free, she slid over the desk on her right, landing on her feet in the next row up. She hurried to the steps that would take her to the exit.  
“Self-defense classes come in handy, Professor Baelish,” she called over her shoulder, refusing to look back at him. Just as she reached the door, a hand grabbed the strap of her bag and pulled her back.  
“Miss Stark, I fear I’ve upset you,” Baelish began, his eyes frantic.

“No shit, you fucker,” came a low growl, “now let her go.”  
Sansa looked up into the face of Sandor Clegane.  
Baelish blanched, gulping as his head tilted back, and back, and back to meet Sandor’s furious glare. “I don’t see how this concerns you,” he said shakily.  
Sandor held up a hand, stopping him. “One,” he held up a finger,” she twisted out of your hold in the classroom; that says she doesn’t wanna be near you. Two, she booked it up those steps and you ran after her; that says you know you fucked up. Three, I don’t need to have an interest in her to be a decent fucking person. Now, let. Her. Go.” He bit out the last words, and seemed to grow even bigger.

Baelish flinched and let go of the strap. Sandor curled an arm around her shoulder protectively, glaring at Baelish as they walked away. Sansa led the way to the quad, and her favorite table. She sat down hard, processing everything that had happened.  
Sandor peered at her. “You want some tea?” he asked, gesturing to the pop-up drinks cart that was popular with both students and faculty. After a few moments with no answer, Sandor strode over and placed his order. He came back a few minutes later, placing a steaming paper cup of fragrant tea in front of her. She sniffed at it, then sipped. It was exactly how she took her tea; strong, with lemon slices and a sprinkling of sugar.  
“Thanks,” she said wearily.  
“Looked like you needed it.”

They sat in silence, drinking their tea and coffee.  
Sandor shifted on the metal chair. “Anything you want to talk about?”  
Sansa sighed. “I’m just…” she sighed again. “I’m exhausted.” She took a long sip as Sandor nodded. She smiled at him. “Thanks for coming.”  
“Of course I came.” He ducked his head. “Meant what I said. Anything for you, little bird.”

Sansa blushed, then froze. Her mind screeched to a halt. Could he mean… “Sandor,” she said slowly, “would you like to go on a date? With me?”  
He whipped his head up, blinking at her. “Seven Hells, I didn’t do it for that!”  
Her heart sank. “Oh, okay,” she said softly, unable to help the mournful tone of her voice.  
“Do…” Sandor cleared his throat. “Do you want to go on a date with me? Even if I hadn’t shown up, would you have asked?”  
Sansa perked up. She would be truthful with him. “I’ve wanted to ask you on a date for a while now,” she admitted, “but I didn’t want to mess things up between us.”

Sandor gazed at her, a soft look in his eyes. “Doubt you could mess up anything, little bird.”  
“You haven’t seen me knit,” she joked, revelling in the laugh he let out. He smiled at her, chuckling.  
“All right, where you gonna take me for our date?”  
She nibbled her bottom lip, thinking. “Are you free now? The theatre department has a show in half an hour. They’re putting on And Then There Were None.”  
“Always enjoyed a good mystery,” he said with a grin.

Sansa drained the rest of her tea. “Well then, what are we waiting for?”  
Sandor stood up, weaving his fingers through hers as they walked to the ticket office. Sansa realized that, for the first time in her life, she’d completed both her New Year’s resolutions.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all!
> 
> This is a combo story for the November 2020 and January 2021 Pack Prompts. November was self-defense, and January was resolutions. It's also my first ever SanSan! I love these prompts, they get me writing pairings I've never written before.
> 
> I have never taken a self-defense class before, so I have no idea if Sansa's little trick would work or not.
> 
> Lots of very special thanks to TheRed_Wulf for letting me borrow Claire Stevenson! She makes the perfect mean girl. The incident in the classroom is inspired by one that happened to me, although it was another student instead of a professor. And they didn't lay a finger on me because my friends were in the class after mine, and both are over 6 feet tall.
> 
> Thanks for reading! I hope you all enjoyed it, and I welcome any comments you have.


End file.
